Chapter 30

“This phone is clean,” Victor said as he passed Storm Maxwell a phone encased in a hard-rubber shell. “It’s been confirmed to not contain the current hardware-based attack vector.”

The political mover and shaker took the phone. “Safe for me to personalize and active?” He asked.

Victor nodded. “You can move your sim-card over to it if you want to keep the same number.”

“No e-Sim?” The man asked, as if to show he was not a technical neophyte.

“Not with the secure protocols. We don’t recommend relying on e-Sims that can be manipulated with software due to security concerns.”

“Is that how you get foreign intel?” He asked with a grin.

Victor shook his head. “You don’t have a need to know on that front, sir.”

Storm smiled. “Now, what is the status of our friends?”

Victor nodded. This was the real reason for his return visit to the country estate. “The cat is out of the bag. The reporter and police report are enough to tarnish them. The newspaper had photos of too many people going in and out of the house. The madame running it is in police custody.”

“Can’t the FBI take over the case and get to her? If she corroborates anything the papers have, several people we rely on to get things done will be in trouble, or worse.”

Exposed to the media was worse for any of the politicians. Arrests were likely to follow any such exposure as Maryland’s Attorney General and several district attorneys tried to ride the media tiger to another term in office.

“If anyone hints that the minors were transported across state lines, we might be able to get it into the FBI’s hands, but that is going to have a different set of concerns. The press will follow the case more closely. The FBI is likely to connect those congressmen and senators to certain defense contractors. That risks exposing a few military leaders that we don’t want brought into the limelight.”

Storm looked at him, considering different scenarios in silence. “What are our options?” He finally asked.

Victor had been ready for this question.

“Erase the mistress of the house as soon as she is released on bail. Then have quiet conversations with the senators and congresspeople. If they resign for health reasons or family reasons, things of that nature, the press will drop it. That isolates the company contacts that link to DoD.”

“There’s no guarantee we will get the right sort of replacement senators in place,” Storm said.

The senators in question were from the home states of several critical defense contractors and sat on important military and intelligence committees. It was unlikely newly appointed replacements would go into those committees.

Victor shrugged. “It’s a risk, but we need to cut out the investigation. I won’t let any of our SIGINT go into the case file going to DOJ this week. That reduces some of our exposure. If the intercepts we have from those idiots ever got out, it would make Watergate look like a joke. This isn’t the President colluding to break the law. This is five sitting congressmen breaking the law with three large companies to spend billions of dollars on military contracts that those same congressmen were supposed to be oversight for. They didn’t just get money from the contractors; they used the money and the connections to buy underage sex partners and drugs.”

Storm looked grim. “And your office facilitated part of that exchange, right?”

“There is no proof of that in the case file, sir. There is a tenuous connection through the bank that several black projects were funded through, but no proof of transfers to or from the congressmen or contractors.”

“Then why silence the madame of the house?”

“If she turns as part of a deal, retirement, and resignations won’t be enough. Once that thread starts unravelling, it’s only a matter of time.”

“Can she be dealt with?” The political kingmaker asked.

Victor nodded. He was not going to discuss who or how that would be handled, ever.

“What about any physical evidence she has? You know, what if she had a ‘black book’?”

“She had her records stored electronically. We’ve taken care of them.”

Storm’s eyes widened.

“Taken care of them, or deleted them?” He asked.

“Taken care of them.” Victor was not going to mention the copies his unit at Fort Meade retained and was working to decrypt. He suspected there were things in those files that would give him leverage over the political matchmaker sitting across from him.

“I want them deleted,” Storm said.

“Not yet, sir.” Victor maintained his air of deference. “They are usable for us.”

“You need to make them eyes-only and figure out how I get access. I have markers that might be useful in pulling some strings.”

It went without saying that Storm wanted to know if there was anything about him in the file. If he had insisted on deleting them, Victor would have known the man was a visitor of the house. With this order, it was questionable.

“I’ll see what I can do. We’ve got to break the encryption first. That’s going to take a while unless we get her to turn over the key.”

“Can you do that?” Storm asked.

“Once the Feds have the case, it might be possible. I’d rather silence her. The key combined with the files is a time-bomb. Removing her and the key from the board will protect us more than holding the key in our hands.”

Storm nodded. “What do you need from me to help contain this mess?”

“Get the congressmen to bend. No stiff-upper lip denials. No tearful, overwrought apologies and promises to do better. No song and dance about not knowing what was going on in that house. They give up their seats and get out of town, now.”

Storm nodded. “I can make that happen.”

Victor smiled. “I’ll get going on the rest. With a little luck, we can contain this before next weekend.”

Elara looked down at Finn, stroking his cheek softly. He looked peaceful despite the battle they had waged. She could hear a storm and feel the cold wind blowing from the chaos sea into Malachi’s now ruined workshop. Flashes of lightning made her globe of warm light appear feeble.

She tried to sense his spirit once more, knowing his body was alive, but fearing for his mind and soul. She did not know exactly what had happened between Finn and Malachi, but knew he had fought the evil mage, somehow. His efforts had surpassed her own and saved them both.

“Finn,” she called softly, a whisper on the wind starting to howl through the room. “Finn.”

His eyes danced behind his still closed lids.

“Finn, come back, please.”

His eyelids fluttered, then opened, focusing on her.

She smiled as warmth spread through her heart. “Thank you, Finn. You saved me.”

She leaned down and kissed his lips, the third kiss since their first so long ago in the alley in his world. That embrace had been camouflage to hide from his pursuers. That kiss had been a shock to her, sudden and unexpected. Her second kiss had been just as impulsive and unplanned but initiated by her. Did her heart know even then?

This kiss was different. She had thought about kissing him for weeks, even months. Only her fear that it was the compulsion of the geas had prevented her from acting on it.

The geas had vanished, she realized. For the first time in recent memory, she relaxed and allowed her passion to flow freely, regardless of whether it was a spell or her heart’s desire; she finally knew it was true. The tension in her body dissipated, and she savored the sweetness of his lips.

His hand rose, cradling her cheek as his tongue traced over her lips, sending thrilling tingles of pleasure through her body and soul. She knew it was more than a kiss, more than relief at winning against their tormentor. Her goddess given lunar empathy and intuition filled her with the sense of love, contentment, and rightness. She pressed her lips harder to his.

Mine, she thought. He is mine, now and always.

“Cameras rolling?” Amy asked as the time for her meeting with Agent Wilson approached.

“I’ve got you in focus,” she heard in the earpiece connected with her phone.

Bill, the same investigator she had used to gather evidence of the house in Towson, was across the street in a parking garage with a long-lensed camera recording her meeting. She was a little nervous meeting a special agent from an unnamed agency. Of course, she had done her homework. Agent Pamela Wilson was listed as part of Homeland Security, but had done work with other agencies, including the FBI and the DEA. That did not mean she was working with either group now. If she was chasing Finn, Amy suspected she was NSA, but knew they covered their agents carefully.

Amy spotted her approaching from the metro station almost a block away. The blonde special agent had an intensity to her walk and her continuous scanning of the open-air park. As she got closer, Amy noticed her dark, almond-shaped eyes framed by long, thick lashes that cast shadows on her high cheekbones. Her nose was slightly upturned, giving her an aristocratic appearance, while her full lips were curved ever so slightly into a determined smile. Amy could see how she would be underestimated by plenty of people. She pledged not to be one of them. This woman was seriously dangerous.

“Amy?” She asked as she stopped that the small table Amy occupied.

“Special Agent Wilson?” Amy asked with a nod of acknowledgment. “I hope this is an alright place to meet.”

The agent sat, seemingly without a concern. “Of course. I expected you to want a public meeting. I’ve got nothing to hide but would ask that you keep my face out of the papers,” she added with a genuine smile.

Amy was surprised. Maybe this was a straight-up interview and conversation. “You mentioned wanting to corroborate evidence on the phone. Evidence of what, exactly?”

Pamela’s eyes hardened. She glanced at Amy’s phone on the table and spotted the single ear bud in her ear.

“I’ll let you record this, but it is strictly off the record, understood?”

“Off the record, of course,” Amy said with a nod. She had expected nothing else.

“We have financial data linking several high-level politicians to that house and the activities that appear to have taken place there. I suspect you have photos that will confirm these politicians were at the place. With our financial data and your proof of them being present, we will have enough evidence to take to the AG and DOJ so they can open a formal investigation.”

Amy was surprised. She expected them to have much more than that.

“You want more than the photos we have,” Amy said, making a sudden decision.

Agent Wilson’s eyebrows rose. “What else do you have?”

“More,” was all Amy was willing to say. “If I took all my research and evidence to the AG, they would have a slam-dunk case, if it was all admissible.”

“Oh?”

Amy smiled and shook her head. “Since they did not gather the evidence, and I won’t tell them how I got it, it would be hearsay. My editor won’t even let me use some of it due to risk of libel or slander. But the evidence is compelling.”

Agent Wilson stared at her, thinking or trying to intimidate the reporter, but Amy was made of sterner stuff than a harsh stare would bother.

“Could the data be gathered conventionally, if we knew what to look for?” She finally asked.

“What do you mean?”

“If you planted a tracker on them, that would be inadmissible, but if we get a warrant for phone tracking, would we be able to recreate the places they visited?”

Amy understood what she was driving at. “Yes. We have a location timeline that puts them at that house during the same timeframe questionable transactions were processed from their accounts. I also have details on how the money was funneled to them through a broker in New York. I have addresses on several trafficked victims who got out, but I don’t know if they are willing to testify.”

“No papers?” Agent Wilson asked.

“Correct. Maybe the DOJ can do something to convince them to testify, but I don’t know what weight their story would carry.”

“What else do you have?”

Amy licked her lips. “I’ve got recordings of some conversations they had that are pretty damning when combined with who they are talking to, and where they went and met before and after the exchange.”

“Give me an example.”

“Congresswoman Samuelson complaining about the door price to get into that house and questioning the merchandise they had that she might be interested in. Anyone who references buying a ‘Lolita’ on the phone seems pretty bent in my book.”

Agent Wilson straightened up. Amy could see the wheels spinning.

“How did you get a wiretap on a Congresswoman?” She asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Amy replied. “It won’t be admissible, since there was no warrant involved.”

“Unless it is used to impeach a witness,” Agent Wilson countered. “How good is the quality of the recording?”

“Crystal clear,” Amy said with a smile.

Pamela seemed to sober, putting her euphoria back in the container she seemed to hold it in normally.

“Are you willing to work with me on creating a case file?” She finally asked.

Amy thought about it. She would need to select the files provided by Finn cautiously to not expose him, but she did not see a better way to get some justice for the abuses the politicians had carried out.

“I am.”

“Finn, I think it’s this way,” Elara said as she ducked beneath a partially collapsed archway.

The strange passageways of the keep had become a trap for them to escape. The direct route she had taken from the prison cells to the workroom was no longer passable. The door Finn had arrived through was open, but he had warned her of the strange stairs and corridors that climbed down but took him higher in the keep. They had spent hours carefully searching for an exit.

Their efforts were not aided by the fact that both were exhausted. For Elara, weaving the moonbeams was second nature and had not taxed her in the least. Transforming her appearance had taken more effort, but it too had not worn her down. The battle with Malachi was a different story.

She had never sent as many projectiles with as much force as she could imagine, in such a brief time. She had never needed to restore a shield continuously as it was attacked by bolts of raw chaos.

Finn had tried to explain what he had done but used strange words and concepts she found hard to follow. In the end, he said his magic had worked, but it had drained his body and soul.

Elara understood that feeling.

The good news during their search to escape was finding a pantry with loaves of bread and other durable staples they could take. The bread was fresh enough that each had taken a roll to chew while searching.

Finn squeezed into the corridor beside her, squinting at the dim light peaking past another pile of rubble. He looked down, then knelt to feel the stone floor.

“These seem rougher than the earlier ones. Maybe they were less traveled,” he opined.

“Or possibly, they were more traveled and worn, so were replaced. Let’s find out.”

She began moving larger stones near the top of the pile of rubble, widening the opening.

Soon, it was open enough for her to squeeze through. She recognized the gate at the far end. “It’s the outside, Finn.”

“Coming through,” he called. “Watch out.”

He pushed the top of the rubble, widening the opening so he could crawl through to follow her. Soon, they were both outside under the aurora filled sky. The open courtyard was empty of any other survivors, though neither thought there had been others in the keep. They had found the mute cook dead near the pantry.

Together, they moved to the inside of the curtain wall by the gate leading out and sat to rest. Finn took her hand and pulled her closer to him but said nothing. Elara breathed deeply, content to rest with him for a bit.

“It hardly looks damaged,” Finn finally said as he stared at the box towered keep. “But we know that’s not the case on the inside.”

Elara could only nod. They had climbed over and through enough rubble that she expected the keep to be just a giant mound of debris.

“Magic?” She asked.

Finn squinted.

“Magic. I can see the outside is a shell of power. It might have kept its shape from that force. Who knows? Not me.”

Elara started to say something, to discuss the feelings they had shared when he awoke in the workshop, but it was too fresh in her mind. The joy she felt was a revelation to her, but the fear she had fought was still too recent. Instead of speaking, she squeezed his hand and leaned her head on his shoulder. Conversation would wait.

All enemies, foreign and domestic.

That phrase of her oath played through her head, on repeat. The evidence the reporter, Amy, had provided told her there was more going on in this case than a traitor and corrupt politicians. The edges of the shadowy conspiracy pulled at her, wanting her focus, despite her knowing there was no more evidence there.

The people at the center of the investigation were dirty, that much was certain. But the fact that two additional congressmen were implicated in Amy’s data was startling. They, in turn, had some tenuous links to two large defense contractors, albeit through a lobbying firm. A third firm might be involved. The lobbying firm had a lot of back-channel influence with the Department of Defense, who picked the vendors getting billions of dollars in taxpayer moneys for various projects and programs, including NSA projects.

Does the director know?

It would be career suicide to make any accusations without rock solid proof.

What if I work from Finn forward, instead of backward from the intercepts?

Finn’s file was heavily redacted, she knew, but he had left the agency in what appeared to be good standing. That he left some sort of backdoor in various systems was obvious.

Three years, she thought. He waited or took three years before acting on the capabilities he left in place. What did you do during that time?

The file was mute. He did some consulting work based on the 1099 forms on file with the IRS but mostly appeared to live off investments made with his salary and bonuses.

“I need a broad bank search for any endpoints on Finn’s pay or income,” she said to her team of analysts. They required something to keep them busy after Amy did most of their job for them on the corruption side of the investigation.

“What are you looking for?” Andrew, the agent analyst who seemed most passionate about their work, asked.

“We know his pay from his time here, but he lived off a pretty meager income after leaving. I see some 1099-Div and 1099-Int forms in the IRS file on him, but we know he lived in New York. That place is not cheap. Something doesn’t add up.”

Andrew was nodding from his workstation a few feet away. “So, trace his money from pay here to wherever it traveled?”

“Exactly. My guess is we’re going to see it moved through a shell company or two, then paid out to some trust. Let’s see if that channel is still active. We need to understand how he was earning a living. That may give us some additional clues to track him down.”

“I’ll get on it.”

Pamela went back to thinking, looking at the defense firms she suspected.

“And let’s see if any of the accounts, trusts or offshore shell companies were paid by these guys as well.”

Finn would like them to self-fund their downfall, she thought cynically.

Purple lightning seared the sky and lit the dark landscape of the Shadow Realm even as mist and fog rolled in from the Chaos Sea.

“We need to get out of here,” Finn said as he turned slowly seeking a path. His vision was sharp and clear, but he saw no hints of which direction they should travel.

Elara tugged his hand, refusing to let go of it since leaving Malachi’s castle. “That way,” she said, nodding toward a glow rising over the bluff by the sea.

Finn had no better suggestion, so agreed.

“How do we leave this realm?” Finn asked. “I don’t think the way I got here will return us.”

“The last time I was here, a spell cast me out. Legend says the portal stones don’t connect, but there is a way. I followed the path the raiders took to the Enchanted Forest.” Her eyes followed the path before them. “But I did not see sigils on this side of the fold to activate it for a return trip. We may just have to trust it works both directions.”

Finn let her pull him along. He glanced at the dead body alongside the trail as they passed it. Elara did not look at it.

“Was that here when you came?” Finn asked.

She nodded. “I did that. He was one of the jailers.”

Finn squeezed her hand. “You’ve been a sword of justice, it sounds like.”

She glanced at him, then slowed when she saw his smile. “I’ve got things to atone for, Finn, but killing him is not one of them. I saw the chamber he and the other jailer used. I would rather not imagine how they used the things there to cause the screams I heard during my brief stay with them. The whole place was evil.”

Finn nodded. “I wonder if the cook knew. She seemed different and did not speak.”

Elara shrugged. The keep had nearly half-collapsed in the fight. The workroom had been destroyed, especially the altar. Finn was still amazed the two of them had survived. Elara said nothing but continued to guide him up the path.

The fold she had described was gone. Not just inactive but missing. “I don’t understand,” she said.

Finn looked around using his new abilities. The hint of power was here, but there were no streams or fields of power remaining. It was almost only a smell on the breeze, an afterthought.

But there was a soft bluish glow over another hill he could spot. “I think we need to go that way,” he said.